


4am

by smlltlks



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All characters are only mentioned, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Lance is alone, M/M, Texting, late night, on Earth, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 21:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15782403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smlltlks/pseuds/smlltlks
Summary: Based on this prompt:https://creativepromptsforwriting.tumblr.com/post/176233150462/prompt-400





	4am

The pressure of the clock ticking, and ticking, and ticking was enough to drive him crazy. The seconds felt like minutes, yet the tick always came suddenly, tearing those imaginary minutes apart. It was dark in his room, but by now, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Pale, cold light came from the crack under the door, but it was the only light to be seen.

 

Lifting his gaze from the ground and letting his weary eyes blink once, twice, three times, he carefully reached out and pushed away his blanket. No matter how warm it was, he always used one. When it got too hot, he would rather sleep naked under a blanket, than sleep without one at all. But it wasn’t hot. The old, rattling AC kept the room at a nice temperature, making him forget the fact that the world outside was hot. This Cuban summer had been hot every day, so he hid away in his room. Every day.

 

He crawled towards his window - the only reason he knew where it was, was because he had slept in this room for sixteen long years and the window had not magically moved to a different place within them. He could feel the curtains’ rough material on his dry hands; he shivered. One second it was dark, the next it wasn’t. Well; it was still dark but less pressing. The darkness seemed less crowded, less thick. He breathed in.

Outside, it wasn’t the light of stars that he saw. It was always hard to see stars from his room, because of the light-pollution caused by the streetlights just below. But he did not mind.

 

Though he loved stars, of course, he also loved streets at night. The occasional car would pass, and it’s headlights would make the rats scatter, and illuminate all those little crooked things that made his home. A smile crept up into his face, but it was small and fragile, much like the cat he spied below. It was barely to be seen - merely a silhouette or shadow against the dirty ground, and only visible because of a broken, tattered streetlight a few feet off.

 

He watched it for a while, as it sat. The cat watched back, waiting for him to move. Lance blinked his eyes; a sign of trust and peace that the cat would probably never see. The cat did though: it saw, and it blinked back.

 

With a tiny, hushed sigh he pulled his knees close and hugged them, resting his chin upon them and shifting his gaze away from the cat. The sky was dark and clouded. He knew those were clouds, though they could be anything. Shadows, dust, nightmares. Maybe even ghosts, dancing in the night - so pale and faded because no one was left to remember them. Lance was here now. He would remember them.

 

Thinking back, there wasn’t a single night he could remember in his whole life, that hadn’t gone like this. He was always up at 4am, whether it be again, or still. Whether it be nightmares or noises that woke him. It did not matter.

 

Were the others awake? Was Hunk awake, to send him a nice, positive message and warm his heart? He was always so good at comforting people, with cakes and smiles and random facts about technology that Lance would never need and never use. Sometimes he wondered if all those amazing robots and spaceships even existed, or if Hunk and Pidge only made them up to make him smile.

 

Pidge. She would be awake - he knew that. The girl never slept. But Lance wouldn’t dare to text her... he feared not only that she would not understand, but also that he would disturb her doing something important. Something that was not necessarily more important than him (if it was, she would never admit it), but something that needed to be done now whereas he could wait. Something you don’t want to be interrupted during, because otherwise you can never get back on track.

No. He would not bother her. But he picked his phone up anyways.

 

Allura was surely asleep. The girl he had once admired so much had become nothing but a friend now, yet the memory of how he used to feel still made his heart weigh heavy. Nyma had been different. Nyma had been his girlfriend, and then she hadn’t been. She had left his life swiftly, and never come back. He barely missed her, and the memories he still had were all good though not to be yearned for. That was Nyma, not Allura.

No. Allura was a sound sleeper. And Allura had never been good at helping him with his feelings; she usually made them worse. Not because she was evil. Not because she did not want to help. No, she just wasn’t the right person to talk to.

 

Shiro was probably busy. He had moved back in with his boyfriend after they had taken a break for a few months. Lance was happy for him, yet he felt a pang if jealousy at the thought. He found himself reaching out, mentally, to the idea of sharing a house with someone dear to him. Whoever it may be.

 

He knew all his other friends were probably sleeping. The ones that were not (Romelle, bless her soul, and Matt who was probably playing video games), just did not feel close enough. They might understand, but at the same time they would not.

Worst of all, every single one of them was endlessly far away. He had always hated the summer holidays, even though he loved his home.

 

4am was when he felt the most lonely.

 

He sighed, placing his phone back on the nightstand where it always sat, and readied himself for turning away.

Then it lit up.

 

“Look at the stars up there.”

One file attached.

Reply to: Keith

Lance gaped. Not only had he forgotten Keith in his little mental list; he had also ignored the fact that he would be awake and it was even an hour earlier. And he was in Texas. In the middle of nowhere. Watching the stars, probably.  
His tiny, fragile smile reappeared as he opened the image Keith had sent. It was a picture of all the stars up there, with all the constellations he could find as all those beautiful little patterns. He looked out his own window, but the sky was still dull.

He texted back:  
“They look so peaceful.”

As he waited for a reply, he went back to the picture. One dot in the night sky on his display was especially bright. Venus, perhaps? He had gotten quite good at guessing.

His phone buzzed slightly in his hand, indicating a new message.  
“Why on earth are you awake?”  
Reply to: Keith

Lance shrugged. Keith would not see that, he realised, but I did not stop him. The look on his face went a little sterner and he watched his own fingers fly across he keyboard in reply.

„You know I can never sleep.” It was true. He had told Keith about that, months ago at the garrison when they were both awake at a similar time of night, pacing the corridors until they found each other. Lance had been surprised, but thankful.

They’d had one of the most meaningful conversations, though Lance could not remember much of it other than the violet shine the other boy’s eyes had held in the strange lights. He blushed at the memory, thankful that it was dark and he was alone.

“Are you ever even happy? Whenever I catch you awake, you seem a bit off.” Reply to: Keith

Lance sighed once again. Of course he was happy. He usually was. Just...

„I have never been happy at 4am. But I am definitely happy sometimes. You know I am.“ Especially when he was with Keith, or talking to him. He did not write that, of course, though maybe he could have. He stopped himself just before he began imagining what it would be like; what Keith might reply.

Lance would never allow himself to finish the thought. Maybe this was not so bad. With a little imagination, he could picture the stars on his own night sky too. They did not match the rest of the worn houses and the streets below, but he could picture them nonetheless. Maybe next year he could see them for real, in Texas, in the middle of nowhere.

He could visit Keith. Or Keith could visit him. Either way, he did not know what would be nicer: seeing Keith, or seeing the stars.

„Then how come we only ever talk this late?“

Reply to: Keith

 

He stopped. Cocked his head. He managed to do this right in the moment his clock gave another barbaric tick. Eyeing it angrily, Lance contemplated the answer to that question.

He did not know.

 

Then again, what did he ever know?

 

You help me feel less lonely. He thought. And then he wrote it, sent it, and sat back. It was the truth. Sometimes, he thought, the truth was all you needed to write.

He could not wait to see the stars up there, for real, and... not alone. He could not wait.


End file.
